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A MEMORY OF SONG 



A MEMORY OF SONG 



BY 



LUCIUS PERRY HILLS 



ILLUSTRATED WITH PAINTINGS FROM LIFE 

BY 

VOLNEY ALLAN RICHARDSON 



ATLANTA, Ga. 

The Franklin publishing Co. 

1903 



THE LIBRARY Or 

CONGRESS, 
Two Cowoe Received 

CLASS OL XXa NoJ 

-) C. -) -2. / 

COPY a 






Copyrighted by LUCIUS PERRY HILLS. 1903. 
All Rights Reserved. 



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Pen Drawing from an Early Portrait. 



TO 

ADALINA PATTI BARONESS CEDERSTROM 
"THE QUEEN OF SONG" 

THIS LITTLE BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 

AS A FEEBLE TRIBUTE FROM THE AUTHOR 

JO THE INSPIRATION. 



Explapatorc) fiote. 



"A Dream of Sono; " is a revision and elabora- 
tion of the six- verse poem " When Patti Sang," 
originally written on the back of a program at the 
Patti Concert, given in DeGive's Grand Opera Honse, 
Atlanta, Ga., Jannary ii, 1894, and published at the 
time in a souvenir booklet for private distribution 
among the personal friends of the Singer and the 
Author. 

The revised poem, embellished with illustrations 
painted from life, together with reproductions of 
some rare photographs, and published under a new 
title, is now offered to the general public in antici- 
pation of the great Singer's return to America, 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



FROM PHOTOGRAPHS. 

Where Patti Sang ; Stage of Grand Opera 
House, x\tlanta, Ga. 

Pen Drawing from an Early Portrait. 

From an Early Photograph taken in St. 
Petersburg. 

Craig-y-nos Castle, Patti's Home in Wales. 

In an Arbor at Craig-y-nos. 

FROM PAINTINGS BY V. A. RICHARDSON. 

■ Firelight Fancies. 
" Home, Sweet Home." 
" SuwANEE River." 
" Coming Through the Rye." 
" Last Rose OF Summer." 
A Memory of the Past. 
A Dream of Song. 



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FiRKLlGHT I'ANCIES. 







Alone by the firelight's fitful gleam 

I sit in my easy chair, 
And watch in the flames the by-gone scenes 

Which my fancy pictnres there ; 











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And as mid the curling smoke and flame 
The pictnred fancies glow, 

I catch the trace of a beantifnl face, 
While I dream of the long ago. 








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From an Early Photograph takf.n in St. Prtersbitro. 






I dream of friends whom I have dearly loved, 
And those whose kindly words have cheered my 
heart, 

Of those who have my better natnre moved 
Bv the weird magic of some heaven-born art : 



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Of those who by the power on them bestowed, 
Or with the genius which to them was giv^en, 

Have often lightened my life's weary load, 
And raised ni}' fainting spirit nearer Heaven : 












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And as the visions of those dear ones here, 
Like angel visitors around me throng, 

The night wind whispers to my listening ear 
Like faint and far-off echoings of song. 










Craig-y-nos Castle, Path's Home in Wales. 






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Dreams are but echoes of the heart's emotion, 
Whose shifting tides forever ebb and flow, 

As cahns and storms upon life's troubled ocean 
Bring to each soul its happiness or woe. 



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For whatsoever stirs the fount of feeling 

Which lies deep-hidden in the human breast, 

Can set the stormy waves of passion reeling, 
Or soothe the troubled waters into rest. 















But naught can wake so fond a recollection, 

Or give the streams of thought so pure a flow, 

As some grand human voice in its perfection, 
Singing the dear old songs of long ago. 










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So, when I heard the world's great Song-Queen 
singing 

Those melodies we all so love to hear, 
It set the bells of memory to ringing 

Their sacred chimes, harmonious and clear ; 




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Till tuneful Muses, 'wakened from their slumbers 
By the sweet strains that floated on the air, 

Sang to my soul in most melodious numbers, 
Which left a never-dying echo there. 











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And now, although my rhymes may often jingle 
In tuneless clamor or discordant clang, 

Still with my brightest visions ever mingle 

The thoughts which came to me while Patti sang. 





In an Arbor at Craig-y-nos, 















When Patti sang I sat entranced amid the 

'raptnred throng, 
And listened to the ninsic of that old, familiar 
song, 



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Till from each isle and continent where weary 

pilgrims roam, 
I heard glad voices echoing the strains of 

"Home, Sweet Home," 











"Home, Sweet Home. 



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And when she sang another song, I seemed 

to hear the flow 
Of Snwanee's placid waters, touched with the 

sunset's glow; 







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And the south wind softly singing to the 

cypress and the pine, 
Filled the grand old forest arches with a 

melody divine. 



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SUWANEE KlVER. 



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Then suddenly I thought I heard, amid the 

rustling grain, 
A tender v^oice repeat the old, old story once 

again ; 











Wliile the sound of lovers' kisses floated out 

upon the air, 
And all the world seemed brighter still for 

Patti's singing there. 



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Coming Through THii; Rye;," 






Then I saw the withered rose leaves fall quiv- 
ering to the ground, 

And angels must have listened to the low 
and plaintive sound 









That came driflino^, drifting to me, and fell 

upon my ears 
Like snow-flakes turned to music, and then 

meltinQ: into tears. 






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Last Rose of Summer. 



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And all the while sweet harmonies crept down 

into my heart. 
And nestled in a home from which they never 

can depart ; 






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For as life's ever changing tides of joy and 
sorrow roll, 

The memory of her voice will still keep sing- 
ing in my soul. 






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A Memory of the Pasi. 






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And when at last life's evening shadows 
across my pathway fall, 

And pictures of the past grow dim on mem- 
ory's crumbling wall, 




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That one fond recollection will its brigfhtness 

still retain, 
For I shall dream I hear her sins: those dear 



old songs again. 




'9 












A Dream of Song. 



:< ly 1903 



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